


Between the Lines

by plumeria47



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hd_fan_fair, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumeria47/pseuds/plumeria47
Summary: Harry Potter just needs a few books from Draco's shop, that’s all.  Or is it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [2013 hd_fan_fair book festival](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/hd_book_fair) (originally on LJ).

The first time Harry Potter came into Draco’s shop, _“Books, From Rare to Cooked,”_ Draco mistook him for Luna Lovegood. 

He’d spent the past several hours unpacking the most recent shipment, checking each book for age-related damage, adding them to his official inventory roster, and was now working on making room on the appropriate shelves for his new additions. After all that, Draco was more than ready for some food. He glanced at his watch. Luna, his assistant, was due back at any moment. As strange and eccentric as she was, she did know her rare books, and she tended to be prompt; he shouldn’t have to wait too much longer. 

He was weighing _Another Duck-billed Platypus: What to do When Transfiguration Goes Dreadfully Wrong_ in his hand, wondering if Luna would think to search for it on the Transfiguration or the Magical Creatures shelves when he heard the bells over the door chime. _Finally,_ he thought, still contemplating the shelves in front of him. “I need you to finish making the payment arrangements for the book we’ve ordered from that Estonian dealer,” he called over his shoulder. “They tend to get prickly if they don’t get their gold within five days, and I really don’t need another Howler.“ 

“Er, okay – but I don’t think I’m really qualified to do that.” 

Draco’s head snapped up. Not Luna, as he’d assumed, but a man. And unless he was mistaken, the voice belonged to….

“I don’t blame you in the slightest for wanting to avoid a Howler, though,” said Harry Potter, amusement curving up the corners of his mouth. “Those can really spoil your day. And your desk.”

“Sorry about that,” Draco responded, walking over. “I thought you were Lovegood.”

Potter looked good, he thought. He’d seen his former nemesis occasionally in the stands at Quidditch games, or walking through Diagon Alley – plus a few _Prophet_ articles, of course – but they hadn’t spoken directly in years, not past the occasional, “Potter” and “Malfoy” exchange to acknowledge each other’s existence. Away from school, away from the influences he had grown up with, Draco no longer felt himself to be in competition with Potter for attention – from professors, parents, or anyone else – and, as a result, his old animosities towards Potter had faded away. 

The years since Hogwarts had clearly been good to him, Draco noted absently. Potter glowed good health, and the shadows that he’d seen under those green eyes in the days and weeks after the War had finally disappeared. 

“Luna?” Potter’s voice brought him back to the present. “I just passed her outside Dillard’s Delicious Delicatessen on my way over here,” he added, jerking his thumb towards the door. “She looked like she was about done, though.” 

Draco nodded, Potter’s observations corroborating his recent thoughts about Luna’s dedication to timeliness. “Good. I’m about ready to eat the next book I see.”

“Not mine, I hope,” Potter said. “The ideas in it can be rather tough to swallow.”

“You never know,” Draco quipped. “It might actually be to my taste.” He winced inwardly at the bad pun. Who knew civil conversation with The Man Who Lived would do such awful things to his linguistic skills?

But Potter only gave a wry chuckle and shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said, digging into his robes and pulling out a scrap of parchment. “I’m looking for _Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes_.”

“You’re right – I’m not _that_ hungry,” said Draco. He thought for a moment. “I’m pretty sure we have that. Any particular edition?”

“Umm … I don’t think so?” Potter absently pushed his glasses further back up his nose. “I honestly have no idea which edition I read before.”

Draco gave a little shrug. “Depending on what you’re looking for, it might not matter. Some information didn’t change much over the years. Come with me,” he added, coming out from behind the counter and heading for some shelves in the back. 

Sure enough, he had a Third Edition in quite good shape on the Charms shelves. Potter flipped through it briefly, presumably assuring himself it contained the information he sought, then nodded. “I’ll take it.”

They returned to the counter, where Draco consulted his parchment for the price. Potter declined to haggle, merely pulling a little pouch from around his neck, fishing the necessary coins out of it and placing the money on the counter. While he was doing that, Draco pointed his wand at Potter’s purchase and murmured a spell; instantly, purple tissue paper wrapped snuggly around the book. He then counted out Potter’s change and handed it over; Potter stretched out his hand slightly faster than Draco was expecting, causing the tips of his fingers to brush Potter’s palm as he deposited the money. 

Potter snatched back his hand as if he’d been burned. “Um, thanks,” he muttered, hastily shoving the coins into his pocket instead of the neck pouch. He grabbed the book and sped out the door before Draco could say another word.

Draco stared at Potter’s retreating figure, then shrugged. Maybe the former Gryffindor still bore him some ill-will after all. At least they were no longer hexing each other.

 

But to Draco’s surprise, Potter was back two weeks later. This time, he asked for a copy of Godric Gryffindor’s autobiography, _A Founder’s Foibles_. Draco was pretty sure he had a copy somewhere, but it seemed to be eluding him. Potter trailed him through the little shop, helping him pore over the shelves in the History section and the Biography section, but it wasn’t there. 

“Oh, _that_ book,” said Luna serenely, when he finally broke down and asked her about it. “It’s in on the Geography shelves.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Godric’s Hollow, of course,” she said. Her eyes swiveled to Potter. “Harry was born there, weren’t you, Harry?”

“Er, yes,” Potter said, adding hastily, “But that’s not why I want the book.”

“Of course not,” Luna said, smiling. “You probably want to read all about Godric Gryffindor’s battles with heliopaths. Threatened to burn down Hogwarts, the heliopaths, but Godric called down a storm of squenchable scythmores, and … well, you’ll probably want to read the rest for yourself, won’t you, Harry?”

Potter bit his lip, fighting to keep the ends of his mouth from curling up. “I’m sure there’s a lot of interesting stories about Gryffindor,” he managed to say with a surprisingly straight face; clearly he was just as accustomed to Luna’s outrageous theories as Draco had become. 

Draco caught Potter’s eye as they walked back to the counter with the book, a smile and an amused shake of his head to show he understood Potter’s reaction. Potter smiled back, and Draco was surprised by the rush he felt to be on the receiving end of that smile. It wasn’t just the absence of their former hatred; he felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach that seemed to slowly spread through his entire body. 

Definitely better than being hexed.

 

Draco assumed that would be the last time he saw Potter for awhile – how many rare books did one former hero need? – but it only took another week before Potter came back. It was chucking down rain, so he must’ve wanted whatever-it-was pretty badly to come out in that weather, _Impervious_ spells or no. Draco mentally shook his head. How on earth did Potter get through Hogwarts if he was this disorganised? Wouldn’t it have been better to come in just once, with the full list of what he wanted? Clearly, Granger must be busy with something else right now, leaving Potter to flail through … whatever he was researching … without her. And doing rather badly, it seemed, if his haphazard shopping was anything to go by.

This time, Potter asked for the first edition of _Men Who Love Dragons Too Much_. Later editions he had, but where to look for a first edition? He pored over the lists of his common suppliers and collectors, looking for a likely source, but nothing was immediately leaping out at him.

“Ask Herr Schneible, down in Bavaria,” Luna suggested from her perch on a footstool, spelling the dust off the top shelves. “In addition to his usual interest in magical history books, he’s also very fond of dragons. He’s an expert on umgubular slashkilters, too.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps you’re right,” Draco said, ignoring the last part of her statement. “All right,” he finally said, after a moment’s consideration. “I’ll ask him. I think I’ll check with Lars Svensson in Sweden, too. “I recall he’s got a decent dragon-based collection, as well.” He made a few notes and then looked up at Potter. “Sorry I don’t have it on hand, but I’ll send you an owl to let you know when I find it.”

“That’s all right,” said Potter. “I don’t mind coming back.”

“Clearly not, given how many trips you’ve been making lately,” Draco said, dryly. Was it his imagination, or did Potter flush slightly? 

“I just … er … I just haven’t always known what else I would need to ask for,” he murmured.

“Is there anything else you can think of while you’re here now?”

Potter opened his mouth, then shut it again. “No,” he finally said. “Not now.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at Potter’s strange behavior, but when nothing else seemed forthcoming, he turned back to the notes he’d been making. “All right. Let’s allow several days for my owls to reach both Germany and Sweden, maybe a week or more to negotiate a price, given the distance – and that’s assuming either collector has the book and is willing to part with it – and a few more days for an owl to bring the book here.” He thought for a moment. “I’m guessing two or three weeks, longer if I have to search elsewhere. I hope you’re not in a rush.”

Potter shook his head. “Whenever you get it will be fine.”

“I’ll send you an owl to let you know when I have the book here.”

“All right.”

Potter turned to go, refreshing the _Impervious_ spell on his cloak and glasses as he went; then, with a rueful sigh, he stepped back out into the rainstorm. Draco frowned a little at Potter’s retreating figure. The man wanted his book so badly, he chose to venture out in a downpour rather than wait for clearer weather, yet said he didn’t mind if it took awhile for said book to arrive. Draco shook his head, wondering if he would ever understand what made Potter tick.

“He likes you,” said Luna, climbing down from her stepladder at last. 

Draco blinked at her. “What?”

“He likes you,” Luna repeated. “That’s why he’s been coming here so many times. He just wants to see you.”

“I seriously doubt it,” Draco said firmly, but then he stopped to reconsider, mentally playing back the three recent encounters. Had Potter flinched away from Draco’s touch because he _liked_ him? It seemed ridiculous, but then, so much of what Luna thought seemed ridiculous. On the other hand, it couldn’t hurt to hear her out….

“What makes you say that, anyway?” he finally asked her, attempting to appear wholly engrossed in the parchment in front of him.

“Oh, I know what Harry looks like when he likes somebody that way,” Luna said in her perpetually matter-of-fact tone. “He used to have that look whenever he saw Ginny Weasley, but then he decided he liked boys better. Ginny was quite upset about it at the time, you know.”

 _How in hell did I miss_ that _bit of gossip?_ Draco wondered. “The _Prophet_ ’s reporters must’ve had a field day,” he murmured under his breath.

“Harry told me that Rita Skeeter tried to interview him, but he wouldn’t let her.” Apparently Luna boasted batlike hearing to match her a brain full of batty ideas. “He threatened to turn her into a beetle and feed her to Neville’s toad. I don’t see why, though,” she continued. “Trevor doesn’t really eat beetles. Flies and moths, mostly.” 

Draco made a superhuman effort not to roll his eyes. “I’m sure that was a great comfort to Rita Skeeter.” 

“He let Daddy do a small story, though,” Luna went on. “You must have forgotten to read that edition of the _Quibbler_.”

“I must have done,” Draco muttered. “Look,” he continued, abandoning all pretense at re-reading the parchment, “are you really _sure_ Potter has a … well, that he’s interested in me?”

“Why? Do you like boys, too?” Luna asked, sounding mildly curious.

“Yes,” he blurted out, without thinking. Not that it was a secret, exactly, but he didn’t go around advertising it, either. Not everyone in the wizarding world was keen on the idea of same-sex pairings, especially among purebloods. No means of continuing the bloodline.

“Well, then, you and Harry should get together,” said Luna. She peered upward. “Shall I hang mistletoe in the door before his next visit? It’s not really in season but that should mean there won’t be too many nargles yet.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Draco said, hastily. “And just because I like men doesn’t mean I like Potter, you know.”

“Oh, that’s all right, then.” Draco wondered if Luna ever got unruffled by anything as she unconcernedly went on with her other duties, humming to herself along the way. Meanwhile, his head was spinning.

It still seemed rather far-fetched that Harry Potter should have feelings for him and yet … the more he thought about it, the more appealing it seemed. Potter had become rather handsome – if you didn’t count the glasses and perpetually messy hair. And there was an intensity behind those green eyes, even when he wasn’t trying to send death glares in Draco’s direction. 

Hmm. Maybe he should give this more thought.

 

The book Harry had requested ended up taking nearly a month to procure, however, with one thing and another; by the time it arrived, Draco was nearly ready to send Harry an owl even _without_ the book, just to see him again. Luna’s suggestion had lodged in his brain and wouldn’t let go. In fact, Draco was beginning to wonder if he’d harbored feelings for Harry for much longer, and simply buried them beneath the more hostile reactions they had once evoked in each other. Surely, nobody felt this drawn to someone on the basis of a mere suggestion.

But Harry – when had he started thinking of him as Harry? – had started invading his thoughts more and more. Every time the bell over the shop door chimed, Draco’s heart had leapt, hoping it was a certain black-haired, green-eyed man. And every time it was not, he’d had to tamp down his disappointment. It didn’t help that Luna was now eyeing him knowingly, as if she could see what he was thinking, even though the subject had not been mentioned again.

But the daytime distractions were nothing compared to the way Harry had been invading his dreams. At first, it was nothing too outrageous – he had Harry pressed up against one of his bookshelves and was kissing him rather heatedly. Given where he and Harry had been interacting most recently, this, at least, was understandable.

As time dragged on, however, the dreams became more – not to put too fine a point on it – dirty. Sometimes Harry sucked him off. Sometimes he was thrusting deep between Harry’s spread thighs. In one vivid dream, Harry held their cocks together in one fisted hand while they rutted against each other frantically, arousal spiraling to almost unbearable peaks before finally, explosively cresting. Sometimes beds were involved. Sometimes they weren’t – only because their dream selves hadn’t managed to make it as far as a bed before their need to couple overcame them. 

Draco realised he was getting hard just thinking about it. Given that he was at work, this really wasn’t the time to have the outline of his rigid cock jutting against his robes. He scooted closer to the front counter and tried to focus on the ledger in front of him, but his brain stubbornly refused to shift. Harry was due in sometime today – he’d said so in response to the owl Draco had sent, announcing that the book had finally arrived. And all Draco could think about was finally seeing Harry again.

 

As if conjured by magic, Harry was pushing open the shop door; he’d already flung back his traveling cloak, revealing a pair of Muggle jeans and a t-shirt. Watching Harry approach, Draco suddenly understood the appeal of such clothing, particularly from an observer’s point of view. The absence of traditional robes meant that it was easy to see and appreciate Harry’s trim figure. 

“Hullo, Malfoy,” Harry said as he reached the counter where Draco stood. 

“Potter.” Having been thinking of Harry as _Harry_ for the past several weeks, Draco found the word awkward in his mouth. It didn’t help that his mouth had suddenly gone dry. He searched Harry’s eyes for any hint of what might be going on behind them. What if Luna was wrong? 

“The book came?” Potter prompted. Draco belatedly realised he’d been staring.

“Right, the book.” Draco fumbled under the counter for it. “Here you are,” he said, pushing forward the gilt-bound copy of _Men Who Love Dragons Too Much_.

“Thanks.” Harry flipped idly through the pages with far less interest than he’d shown in the contents of his previous requests. Tucking the book under his arm, he said, “Well, I guess I should get going.”

“Wait!” Draco blurted out, unwilling to see Harry leave just yet. Harry looked at him curiously while Draco mentally kicked himself for starting a dialogue he didn’t know how to continue. “I, uh, just thought you might like to see this other book I just got in,” he finished lamely.

But Harry didn’t seem to find this strange. “All right,” he said, setting his book back on the counter, and turning to follow Draco to the shelves in the corner. 

As he covered the short – much too short – distance, Draco found himself sweating under his robes; Why was he taking Harry to the Runes, Hieroglyphs and other Ancient Languages section, and, more importantly, what he could possibly invent as a reason for taking him there?

He grabbed a random book off the shelf and fiddled a little with the cover. “Potter, I–” He looked up to see Harry watching him, green eyes bright with an intensity he had thought only came from hatred. But that’s not what he saw now. He sucked in an unsteady breath, suddenly sure what he wanted – needed – to do.

“I didn’t bring you over here for a book,” he admitted, sliding the ancient leather-bound tome back onto the shelf. 

Harry’s brows furrowed slightly. “You didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t.” He took a step closer. “But I do have something I want to give you,” he added.

“Oh?”

The perfect roundness of Harry’s lips as he formed the word put Draco over the edge. In one swift movement, he bent to claim those lips with his own, one hand sliding up Harry’s jaw to cup his cheek. He felt Harry breathe in sharply with surprise, and then his lips were parting as he melted into Draco’s kiss. Draco felt fingers threading into his hair, brushing the shell of his ear as they passed; a jolt of fire flashed straight to the pit of his stomach and a small moan escaped him.

“Oh, you’ve decided you fancy Harry after all.” 

They sprang apart at the sound of Luna’s voice. She stood at the end of the aisle, three books tucked in her arms. “That’s nice,” she added. “Now you won’t have to come up with excuses to see each other anymore.” And, humming contentedly, she continued on to the next aisle.

Harry flushed. “Was I that transparent?”

Draco reached for Harry’s hand and drew him closer. “Only to her. But if it makes you feel any better, I think she saw through me just as easily.” He brushed his lips against Harry’s mouth. “More easily than I could see through myself, really,” he murmured between kisses.

“I’m glad,” Harry replied, pulling away just enough so he could look at Draco. “I was running out of ideas as to what books to ask for next,” he said with a rather sheepish grin.

Draco laughed. “I think together we can come up with plenty of things you could ask for.” He pulled Harry’s hand lower so that his fingers brushed against Draco’s reawakening erection. 

Harry’s smile turned wicked as he gently stroked Draco through his robes. “I think I’ll start by asking – when’s your lunch break?”

Draco drew in a breath, trying to steady himself. It was only half past ten, but…. 

“I believe I’ll be taking my break right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm an open book: surely by now you must know that I love hearing from my readers. Please leave a comment! And thank you for reading. <3


End file.
